


Like a Truck

by salamandererg



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Kissing, M/M, Out of Character, Short, The Rebellion was Successful, Total Lack of Sex Despite the Summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandererg/pseuds/salamandererg
Summary: With the revolution over and a success, Enjolras' sex drive hits him like a truck.





	Like a Truck

Enjolras' heart swelled and his whole body felt like it was vibrating, the people were cheering, the monarchy was crumbling, and Enjolras' flag was flying high.

It was the red sun over the horizon of their barricade, signaling a new day, a better day. Enjolras' smile was comparable to the sun as well, it had broken out over his face as the last guns had been put down and had not dulled, though it was late evening. He had laughed with his friends, accepted drinks, paid for some, hugged those who opened their arms, and even joked.

His head was reeling, and there would be work to do, so much more, but for tonight, he would celebrate with his countrymen.

His skin felt flushed and it could have been the wine, but he felt it all over, even the tips of his toes. It must have been the victory, it was making a new man out of him, like it would make a new country out of France. Everything felt so much more, better, fuller. Enjolras began noticing things that had never caught his attention before now, things that had been on mute for his whole adolescent life were now blaring in his face. The cut of a man's jaw line, the laugh of a close friend, how a hand around his shoulders made his heart beat faster, and the way, the way...

"Oh," Enjolras said suddenly, tilting his head in bewilderment. He made his way to a corner of the room where a group of his friends were gathered, laughing loudly and drinking. Mostly drinking, especially Grantaire, who must have been on his second or third bottle. Though everyone around the man had long since stopped listening, he was smiling and gesturing wildly to the air as he talked. Until Enjolras sat down next to him, laying a hand on his thigh in an unnecessary bid for attention, and the words dried up. Enjolras stared at Grantaire curiously while the other's eyes widened, and he parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out.

"You look at me like you want to kiss me," Enjolras said bluntly in the silence.

This did not aid in Grantaire's search for words, nor did the subsequent kiss. Enjolras leaned forward quickly without knowing that he had been going to, it seemed automatic to him in the wake of his revelation. To bring his lips to Grantaire's gently, close his eyes and get a hint of the wine the other man had been drinking.

It was nothing passionate, a mere press of lips, but it was Enjolras and Grantaire's lips, which made it something quite grand to everyone who had witnessed it. The reactions of the people around the table, surprised shouts and laughing, went unnoticed by the two.

Enjolras pulled away with a smile, "That was very pleasant, I hadn't," He licked his lips, much to Grantaire's distraction. "I hadn't thought that it could be so.”

"It is what happens when you kiss someone other than the dead," Grantaire whispered, his eyes boring into Enjolras', like, he realized, they had done many times before. He was captivated by this look now, not understanding how he could have ignored it just a day ago.

"Yes!" Courfeyrac yelled, attracting the attention of the room even over the noise, but not breaking the stare between Enjolras and Grantaire, "You just need more practice kissing the living! Pray tell, friends, is there anyone who can help our leader with this predicament?"

A chorus of affirmations followed his question and Courfeyrac immediately pulled Enjolras up from his chair, pushing him into the nearest person.

Who happened to be Bahorel.

Bahorel let out a yell that was more excitement than aggression and dove right in. This was nothing like he and Grantaire's, this was a show for the crowd, over dramatic and with too much laughing to be a proper kiss. When Bahorel pulled away from him with a loud smack and another triumphant yell, Enjolras laughed just as loudly as his friends.

Enjolras' hand was grabbed tightly as he was laughing, allowing himself to be pulled face-to-face with Jehan, who wasted no time bringing his lips to Enjolras' with much more care than Bahorel. Jehan kissed him lightly and without the need of showmanship for the entertainment of a crowd. Jehan's skill was apparent and quickly overtook Enjolras, who leaned into it wholeheartedly.

When Jehan had pulled away, Enjolras could swear his lips were tingling. Jehan smiled shyly and pecked him on the nose, pushing Enjolras toward another. It continued like this for several more turns, maids giving him shy kisses on the cheek while brothers-in-arms embraced him solidly; the more bold ones firmly kissed his lips, laughing kindly at his inexperience.

Joly gave him a grimace when it was his turn.

"Enjolras, while I am all for your education, must you really do it with all these people at one time?"

"Just kiss him!" Courfeyrac yelled, causing Joly to roll his eyes and cease wiping Enjolras face with a damp cloth.

"Fine, but I will not be doing it on the lips."

His statement was met with jeers and whistles.

"Where will you be kissing him, Joly?"

"Not sure he has a set of lips down there!"

"Silence, all of you!" Joly yelled, a petulant set to his brow, "You are all animals."

He pressed a kiss to Enjolras' cheek, and then his temple, brow, nose, and chin. Enjolras returned every kiss to Joly as it was given.

They were both giggling by the time he was done and Joly handed him off to the mastermind of this show of affection, who gladly positioned Enjolras the way he wanted him. Courfeyrac straightened Enjolras’ jacket and smoothed the flyaway of his hair with exaggerated seriousness.

“There,” He said, with a satisfied smile and a wink. “Now you are ready to be made a mess again.”

Courfeyrac's contribution was a strange mix of Bahorel and Jehan—enthusiasm and wild showmanship cleverly mixed with an experienced lover's passion. Enjolras was breathless as they parted and he eagerly went back for more, wrapping his hands around his friend's neck. Courfeyrac accepted him and they had to be parted by Combeferre, who was waiting for his turn.

"I do not think it sensible to smother Enjolras so soon after our victory," Combeferre chided, but with a smile on his face.

"Ah, but I would assure him a happy death," Courfeyrac quipped back. "And that is a victory in itself!"

Enjolras beamed at Combeferre, who smiled back just as brightly. Combeferre pulled Enjolras to his chest and whispered in his ear for a long while, with Enjolras muttering back occasionally. The crowd had lost interest, turning to their individual celebrations, and only Courfeyrac stood watching the two of them with a faint smile on his face. He had been subject to the same treatment from Combeferre earlier and knew what the other man was saying to Enjolras was in the same vein of what he had been told.

Combeferre finished and pulled back, wiping the tears that had fallen from Enjolras’ eyes and ignoring his own.

“My friend,” He said softly and kissed Enjolras’ forehead lightly. Enjolras embraced him once more, pressing his own kiss to Combeferre’s temple. Courfeyrac soon joined their hug, pressing them all together with a crushing force.

Enjolras had finished his rounds and was laughing harder than he could remember doing in years. His lips were swollen and numb, and he felt as debauched as he could just by sharing kisses between his friends. Enjolras was once more manhandled by someone and pushed into a chair, laughing loudly.

He turned to the only other person at the table, panting slightly to catch his breath.

“Hello," Grantaire said with a smile. "You've found your way back to me.”

“It was a perilous journey," Enjolras joked. "I saw many things in my travels.”

"I am sure, I saw some of them as well. Courfeyrac made good of his promise for an education."

"There are still many things I have yet to learn," Enjolras said after a moment, staring at Grantaire.

"True," The other man agreed, not meeting Enjolras' eyes, "Your tutors cannot all be drunken men in cafes."

Enjolras laughed warmly, "I seem to know only drunken men in cafes at the moment. I do not think I would choose anyone else."

Grantaire smiled down into his bottle, with a wry chuckle, but did not respond.

"Am I being too subtle?" Enjolras questioned suddenly, dipping his head to catch Grantaire's eye, "Then I will speak plainly, I wish for you to be my tutor. I wish for you to kiss me again and to show me all the things it seems I have been missing all these years." Enjolras paused uncertainly, "I am quite certain I wish for you to take me to bed. If you would be amenable to that.”

Grantaire laughed loudly in shock, "You cannot say such things in public, you will incite a riot, again! Men will clamor over each other for such a chance, brother against brother, son against father. They will come from the banks and roads, paupers and lords to fall at your feet. You will put blood on the streets of France once more."

"I would reject them all," Enjolras said simply, amused. "Though perhaps I should have offered myself as a reward when we were talking to the student groups. More might have shown their support."

"If that had been the case, then forgive me saying that I would not have regretted my inactivity at the Café Richefeu."

Enjolras smiled, in too good of a mood to drag up that failing, "I suppose if that were the case, you would have volunteered to speak to every group."

"And played cards and dominoes till the next morning, indeed, never having mentioned barricades or revolutions,” Grantaire said pointedly, finishing up his bottle, and still hesitating to look Enjolras in the eye.

“Do you not wish to?” Enjolras questioned with a worried crinkle in-between his eyebrows.

“Ha, wishing,” Grantaire huffed out, “The old adage about them is accurate, you must be careful or they will come true.”

“And, yet,” Enjolras dropped slowly to his knees, for it seemed the other man was only content to look at the floor, an action that brought Grantaire’s undivided, all-encompassing attention if only because of his sheer surprise at it, “Will you teach me, Monsieur Grantaire?”

\--

End


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